Act V: The Prince's Expedition (Part 13)

Thirteen

The grassland was frozen solid, a vast expanse of white as if it had just snowed. On the high slopes on both sides of the valley, the thin, broken ice, like foam floating in a river, seemed to tremble as it flowed slowly downwards, as if due to the soldiers' firm and orderly footsteps.

Soldiers? Yubi rose from his seat and walked to the edge of the hillside to examine them closely. It was a tightly packed column, surrounded by a ring of thick, massive wooden shields. Interspersed along the edges of the shields were various weapons—spears, longswords, pitchforks, and axes. The men were shoulder to shoulder, like a human chariot, crowding around the towering cross in the center. Yubi stared intently; it was the wooden cross atop the church in Brasov. The first time he saw it, it was lying in an oxcart.

The formation was bulky and slow, with heads nervously looking around and cautiously probing forward. From a distance, it resembled a beetle with many legs. The singing was emanating from the center of the formation.

“You see, it seems the city lord also prefers to send peasants to their deaths at the forefront.” Batur stepped back and sat back in his chair. His ten fingers clenched together again. “Tell them to move forward a bit more. Judging by the number of people, there should be three more such formations.”

Yubi suddenly remembered the tactics Batur had told him earlier. He turned to look at the southern steppe—in the sunlight, the heavy cavalry Batur had mentioned weren't there, and Turana and her twins were nowhere to be seen. "Where are your cavalry?" He could only see sheep and slaves huddled together on the frosty steppe in the distance. "They're not here, how can we launch a charge?"

“When cavalry charge downhill in this kind of weather, the horses are prone to falling over.” Batur raised his chin. “Don’t be impatient.”

Yubi turned to look at Yakov's expression and found his blood slave standing behind him, frowning and staring seriously at the battlefield. He had no choice but to turn back away dejectedly.

The phalanx moved extremely slowly, and even the singing gradually faded. Yubi thought it sounded like a hymn. The people moved slowly and deliberately, and soon two scouts on horseback emerged from the mountain pass, galloping past the phalanx on either side. Soon, they spotted the slaves and sheep ahead—Yubi noticed that a small contingent of Tatar cavalry remained there as well.

Batur raised his arm and waved. A messenger who had been waiting beside him for a long time immediately spoke. Yubi's gaze couldn't even keep up with the speed of their signaling and flag-waving; he soon lost sight of his target—he turned his head, his gaze returning to the battlefield. Soon, the small cavalry unit gave the order, and the sound of mouth harps came from there—ragged slaves, forced forward by whips and scimitars, were compelled to charge. But their numbers were few, only equivalent to a phalanx. And now, two phalanxes carrying crosses had emerged from the mountain pass, lined up side by side.

The tragic scene unfolded quickly. The slaves were caught between two armies, unable to advance or retreat. They had few decent weapons and couldn't break through the dense phalanx. Some reckless individuals charged forward, tearing at the enemy like madmen, only to be quickly swallowed up and hacked to death by the phalanx. Many more turned back halfway, crying out to rush into the forest or begging for mercy—unfortunately, the opposing army, holding crosses, was unwilling to risk the consequences of rescuing them. In the blink of an eye, the several hundred men had either fled or scattered.

Upon seeing this, the cavalry squad in the distance immediately drove their flock of sheep southwards, heading towards the mushroom-shaped yurts.

Clearly, the formation was getting restless at the sight, and they quickened their pace slightly—"A flock of sheep," Batur said with a smile, turning to Yubi, "It's like bait for fishing."

Yubi frowned as he looked at the white, bare grass. Soon, many corpses lay scattered across it—many blond-haired and blue-eyed, resembling Yakov. He looked up and realized it was already broad daylight. The warm sunlight made him feel uncomfortably itchy.

The square of wooden shields began to sing hymns again—it seemed the recently slaughtered slaves were boosting the morale of the soldiers carrying crosses. But they remained calm, continuing their slow, deliberate advance. "Looks like an experienced fish," Batur said, raising an eyebrow and pacing back and forth. "But the more cautious they are, the more they delay, the better it is for me."

"Why?" Yubi couldn't help but ask.

“If you want to catch a big fish, cast a long line.” Batur squinted his dark eyes and smiled at him. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

The third phalanx was emerging from the mountain pass. They shifted and changed formations, carefully defending each direction. Yubi suddenly noticed that the ice crust on the grass had melted, leaving everyone on the battlefield with muddy legs. "Wait a little longer," Batur said, his eyes fixed intently on the phalanx, "it'll be here soon."

As the fourth phalanx emerged, Yubi immediately understood what Batur was waiting for—a small troop of cavalry surrounded the center of that phalanx. The bishop of Brasov was caught in the middle, looking around and conversing with the knights beside him. This phalanx was more cautious than the others, firmly locked within the other three, with buffers on its left, right, and front. Having finished their reconnaissance, they finally began to move forward. After an unknown amount of time, the column finally reached the mountain pass.

“Let’s test the power of faith,” Batur said cheerfully. “Now.”

Suddenly, a deafening roar erupted from the back of the grassy slopes on all sides—startled Yubi, he jumped up from his chair again—as if from nowhere, three cavalry units surged out from the east, west, and south, surrounding the northern pass. He discovered that this was different from the arrangement Batur had previously described to him: the heavy cavalry for the charge had been moved to the flat southern plains, commanded by Thurana; while the twins were each in charge of the east and west flanks, the elder brother Alkin in the west and the sister Albert in the east. They each led a troop of several hundred light cavalrymen down the slope, each carrying a bow under their arm.

The light cavalry approached the center of the battlefield first—the infantry immediately pressed themselves together, each square instantly shrinking into a tight ball. There were no gaps between the shields, and the sharp iron weapons protruded only from the top. However, as soon as the light cavalry charged towards the squares, they immediately split into two groups, flowing apart from both sides like water.

A dense rain of arrows, accompanied by the shouts of the Tatars, lashed into the square formation. Some were deflected by shields, while others pierced the bodies of soldiers. Everyone roared, the deafening sound carrying all the way to the high ground where Yubi stood. His red eyes widened, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word. He saw men fall in the square formation, and immediately those in the back rows pushed forward to take their place.

“It seems faith is a good thing,” Batur stroked his beard. “It can make peasants more useful than slaves.”

Why didn't he realize he had miscalculated? Yubi quickly understood why. He saw the Khan's wife approaching from the south with her heavy cavalry—they were heavy and sturdy, covered from head to toe in armor, including their horses—and Yubi could almost hear Turalya's proud roar. Her vibrant figure led the charge, rushing straight into the phalanx.

The wooden shields were utterly useless against the hard iron hooves. A gap was instantly torn in the leading phalanx, and all the heavy cavalry following Thurana surged through it. The entire phalanx crumbled in an instant, slaughtered by the Tatars' scimitars. Yubi saw the massive cross collapse with a deafening roar, landing on the blood-soaked, withered grass.

"The outcome is decided." Batur leaned back in his chair, smiling as he twisted his wrists to relax them.

Suddenly, the cavalry on the battlefield seemed to be in trouble. Yubi saw that the horses were howling wildly, some had fallen into the muddy, icy water, some refused to go any further, and some were running away in the opposite direction. He immediately turned to Yakov and asked, "What's going on?"

Yakov remained silent, his face expressionless.

Yubi went to check on Batur again—the Khan quickly noticed the anomaly, and the smile vanished from his face. Soon, a messenger, covered in blood and mud, ran back to the hill. He shouted in Turkic to report to the Khan.

"What happened?" Yubi asked again.

Batur remained silent. "The soldiers in the square threw caltrops outwards," Yakov replied. "Some horses were injured."

Yubi immediately turned his gaze back to the battlefield—the Khan possessed an experienced army, and the cavalry from all three directions quickly withdrew from the trap-strewn phalanx. They suffered few casualties, preserving a large portion of their troops, but were forced to distance themselves from the phalanx. "Can they charge again?" Yubi asked. "What should we do?"

"Have the light cavalry stand still and fire at them," Batur finally spoke. "The phalanx dares not move, we have plenty of time."

Yubi thought this was one way. He looked anxiously towards the battlefield. However, as if in response to Batur's words, two more dense volleys of arrows rained down. The light cavalry on both flanks were immediately startled and retreated, some wounded and falling from their horses.

A second volley of arrows immediately followed. To Yubi's surprise, they came from the towering forests on both sides of the valley.